I had room in a house......when I was at college (years ago) that was directly opposite a dentist surgery (like, across the hall). I regularly used to be woken by the sound of the drill going in. I answered the front door one afternoon to a patient holding my hand over my mouth, grimacing and with stage blood splattered down my t-shirt. The poor old fucker nearly died.
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routine has perfected burgers,
Wed 26 Jun 2002, 19:32,
archived)